SONG. WHEN NAPOLEON was flying A British soldier dying To his brother bade adieu ! "And take," he said, "this token Sore mourn'd the brother's heart, There was many a friend to lose him, But the maiden of his bosom Wept when all their tears were dried. LINES TO JULIA M SENT WITH A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S POEMS. SINCE there is magic in your look The sunny dew-drop of thy praise, Go forth, my pictured thoughts, and rise DRINKING SONG OF MUNICH. SWEET Iser! were thy sunny realm To prop the tender vine; My golden flagons I would fill With rosy draughts from every hill; Like rivers crimson'd with the beam Our balmy cups should ever stream No care should touch the mellow heart, For wine can triumph over woe, And Love and Bacchus, brother powers, Could build in Iser's sunny bowers A paradise below. LINES ON THE DEPARTURE OF EMIGRANTS FOR NEW SOUTH WALES. ON England's shore I saw a pensive band, Grief mark'd each face receding from the view, "Twas grief to nature honourably true. And long, poor wanderers o'er the ecliptic deep, The song that names but home shall make you weep: Oft shall ye fold your flocks by stars above But cloud not yet too long, industrious train, The deep-drawn wish, when children crown our hearth, To hear the cherub-chorus of their mirth, Undamp'd by dread that want may e'er unhouse, These are the hopes, high-minded hopes and strong, That beckon England's wanderers o'er the brine, To realms where foreign constellations shine; Where streams from undiscover'd fountains roll, And winds shall fan them from th' Antarctic pole. And what though doom'd to shores so far apart From England's home, that ev'n the homesick heart Quails, thinking, ere that gulf can be recross'd, How large a space of fleeting life is lost: Yet there, by time, their bosoms shall be changed, And strangers once shall cease to sigh estranged, But jocund in the year's long sunshine roam, That yields their sickle twice its harvest-home. There, marking o'er his farm's expanding ring New fleeces whiten and new fruits upspring, |